


Waking up in Vegas

by kalikala28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Drinking, Explicit Language, Gambling, Gay Panic, I don't know what else to tag, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Dean, Oneshot, Sam Ships It, Some feels, Strippers & Strip Clubs, just a smidge, things, well it WAS going to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:19:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalikala28/pseuds/kalikala28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes Cas for a night of good old fashioned debauchery. Things do not exactly go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

　　“Dean. You can’t be serious.” 　　

　　“Las Vegas, Sammy. I’ve never been more serious. Look, you stay here and figure this shifter thing-- don’t look at me like that, you do all the research anyway-- I’ll go show Cas how to have a really good time, and when you figure it out, you give Cas a jingle and we’ll head back no problem. Come on, Sam, It’s right around the corner!” 　　

　　Sam gave him a mild bitchface. “It’s more than three hours away, Dean. That’s not “right around the corner”.” 　　

　　“Don’t deny Cas the simple pleasures, Sammy.” He wrapped an arm around the angel’s shoulders companionably, who stood there looking like a mix of disbelief and awkward terror. “You wanna go, don’tcha Cas?” 　　

　　“Uh--” Cas looked at Dean’s hopeful face and caved. “Yes. I would especially like to see this city of debauchery and hedonism first hand.” 　　

　　Dean grinned at him. “See?” 　　

　　Sam rolled his eyes, certain that Cas would agree to fly into the sun if Dean asked him too. He crossed his arms and regarded them both with an irritated scowl. The prospect of letting his brother loose in a city known for bad choices with only the angel for supervision was not a good one. However. Maybe the time alone together would finally get their heads out of their respective asses and realize they were stupid in love with each other. 　　

　　“Fine.” It was only the one shifter, anyway. 　　

　　“Really?” Dean asked, surprised. 　　

　　He sighed. “Yeah. God knows we deserve a little fun sometimes, I’ll just hang out here and enjoy some time for myself.” 　　

　　Dean shifted, feeling guilty. “You can come too, if you want we can finish this case, then head--” 　　

　　“Oh, no. The last time I was in Vegas, I ended up married to Becky, remember?” Sam shuddered. 　　

　　Dean laughed. His arm, Sam noted, was still slung around Cas’ shoulders. Cas tilted his head, confused. “You were married?” 　　

　　Dean laughed even harder. “I remember, man. I promise we’ll keep an eye out for crazy fangirls.” 　　

　　“Very funny, Dean. Just be careful.” 　　

　　“You too, Sam. Just shoot Cas a prayer when you’ve figured it out and are ready to put the shifter down, and we’ll head back. Come on, Cas. This is going to be awesome.” 　　

* * *

 　　Dean slid unwillingly into awareness some 30 hours later. He cracked an eyelid and regretted it immediately, scrunching his eyes closed and pressing his hand to his face, as if he could push the pounding from his skull. He groaned, and tried to open his eyes again to take in his surroundings. He caught sight of his reflection, staring blearily back at him from the tiled mirror on the ceiling. He stilled, realizing that there was a person shaped lump in the bed next to him in the mirror, which meant... Yup. There was an arm flung around his bare middle. 　　

　　In a rising panic, he tried to remember the night before. There had been drinking, a little black jack, drinking, Texas hold ‘em, more drinking, strippers, some neon green body shots off the strippers, then...? He couldn’t remember much of anything past that. Couldn’t remember when or how he’d gotten back to the motel, or _who_ he’d brought with him. He just hoped he hadn’t married her. Sam would never let him live it down. 　　

　　A whole new panic flared in him. Oh, God. Cas! Where was Cas? He had to find him, he’d brought him here to have fun and then what? Just abandoned him for some chick? He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, so he shoved the arm off his stomach and sat up quickly. The world spun, and he fought a wave of nausea. He noted, _thank God_ , that he was still wearing his pants, though his belt and the button of his jeans were both undone. It made him feel less guilty, for some messed up reason, to know he hadn’t actually had sex with the stranger next to him. 　　

　　The stranger that was stirring underneath the comforter. Dean thought about booking it out of there, immediately. He really needed to find Cas and apologize, he didn’t have time for morning after drama, and he especially didn’t want to have to apologize for not... performing. He looked around quickly, but his shirt and shoes were no where to be found. 　　

　　The stranger groaned. A very deep can’t-even-pretend-it-was-feminine groan. 　　

　　Fuck his shirt, and his shoes. He needed to get out of there, NOW. He started backing away from the bed, staring at it with a sense of total horror, moving towards the door, and trying to process what he had been doing in bed _with a guy_. The stranger threw back the comforter, and lifted his head from the pillow. 　　

　　The familiar mess of dark hair sent a wave of relief through Dean. “Cas?” 　　

　　Castiel sat up completely, groaning again and putting his head in his hands. “I do not care much for Las Vegas.” 　

　　Dean huffed a laugh, reveling in relief. Sure, yeah, okay, so he had still been in bed with a guy, but it was _Cas_. He very stubbornly ignored his state of dress and the fact that Cas was in nothing but his boxers and tie. Sure, it might be awkward for a while, but this was totally a crash-with-your-friend-because-you’re-piss-drunk-and-absolutely-nothing-else-is-going-on kind of thing. 　　

　　“What happened last night, man?” 　　

　　Castiel was quiet for a minute, and then shook his head. “I remember the establishment was very impressed with my alcohol tolerance, and that you asked me to take a drink from a woman’s cleavage. I think her name was Calypso? They were green, and I had many of them. Then there were more shots, and we had to lick salt off each other.” 　　

　　“You and Calypso? Nice.” Dean asked, amused. 　　

　　“No. You and I.” Dean stiffened, but Cas went on as if nothing was wrong. “Then we got in a taxi, I think... I don’t remember anything after that.” 　　

　　“Okay. Well. Where are the rest of our clothes?” 　　

　　Castiel looked down at himself, and then glanced around. “I am not sure.” He looked at Dean with a quirk of his head. “Why would we remove our clothing?” 　　

　　“No. Man, just-- Don’t-- Don’t go there. Okay?” 　　

　　Castiel didn’t understand why the question upset him so much, or at least, he acted like he didn’t understand, but he nodded, and got out of bed. They found Cas’ pants by the door, but the rest of their clothes were missing. Dean opened the door to their room to ask the front desk if housekeeping had been through and picked up their clothes, and found a large grocery bag hung on the other side of the door. It held most of their missing clothes, minus one of Dean’s socks. 　　

　　Pinned to the bag was a note written on motel stationary. 　　

　　 _I tried to get you boys to pick these up last night, but you both seemed more keen on celebrating than worrying what would happen to your clothes when housekeeping came through. Young love is funny that way. Still, I figured you’d need them back._

_~Room 28_

_Ps. You make an adorable couple. Congratulations!_ 　　

　　Dean made a strangled noise as he re-read the note a third time. Flashes of Castiel pressing him against the wall in the hallway as they tore at each other’s clothes burst through his mind. He cleared his throat. “Cas? You don’t remember anything else from last night? Did we? I mean, it sounds like-- But we didn’t-- We wouldn’t have--” 　　

　　“You aren’t articulating your question very well, Dean. What are you talking about?” 　　

　　“Nothing. Never mind.” 　　

　　Castiel looked at him carefully, trying to figure out what was bothering him. Dean stuffed the note roughly into his jeans pocket, but pulled it back out almost immediately along with a photo set from a photo booth. It was folded in half, and Dean unfolded it like it might bite him. The first picture was innocent enough, both of them smiling for the camera, Dean with his arm slung around Cas’ shoulders again. It made Dean smile. The next two were horribly blurry, a silent testament to just how drunk they’d been. The last one had the smile slipping from Dean’s face, as it was very obviously him and Cas and they were very obviously kissing. 　　

　　Dean’s mouth ran dry. He’d kissed Cas? What the hell? And how unfair that he couldn’t remember it. Wait. What? No. 　　

　　He resolutely shoved both things back into his pocket, thrust the bag of clothes at Cas, and locked himself in the bathroom to wash his face and freak the fuck out. When he felt together enough to leave the bathroom, he noticed Cas sitting on the bed, pouting. “What’s the matter, Cas?” 　　

　　“My coat is covered in glitter.” He grumbled, longing for the days he didn’t have to conserve every bit of Grace. 　　

　　Dean chuckled. “Well, that happens when you hang out with strippers. You ready?”

　　Castiel didn’t answer except to stand and shrug into his glittery coat. Dean made to lead the way out of the room, but the angel stopped him. “Would you like this back? I assume you gave it to me last night to hold on to, but I do not remember.” 　　

　　Dean stared uncomprehendingly at the ring on Castiel’s hand. It wasn’t a family heirloom or anything, just a silver band he wore sometimes, when he needed to appear off the market, or just because, it wasn’t even valuable, but the sight of it on Cas’ finger was the last nail in his coffin. He dropped heavily into the cheap motel chair, and put his head between his knees. 　　

　　Sam was never, _ever_ going to let this go. 　　

　　Castiel was hovering. “Dean? What’s wrong? I can still hold onto it, if you’d like, it’s no problem.” 　　

　　“Cas, I think... I think we might’ve, uh, tied the knot.” The angel looked down at his shoes and inspected the laces. “No, you know, tied the knot. Gotten hitched. Oh, for Christ’s sake, we’re married!” 　　

　　“Oh.” It was the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and Dean looked at him incredulously. 　　

　　“ _’Oh?_ ’ That’s all you can--” His phone rang. Dean answered it grudgingly. It was Sam. “Yeah?” 　　

　　 _“Where are you? What is going on? I’ve been praying to Cas off and on for three hours now.”_ 　　

　　“Yeah, okay, I get it. Uh, we’ll be on our way soon, me and Cas have to, uh, get something taken care of first.” Like, a marriage to annul. 　　

　　 _“What? No. This is a metric shit ton bigger than we thought. There’s more than one shifter, and they are collaborating with ghouls for body disposal. I need back up, like, yesterday.”_

　　Dean huffed a sigh in annoyance. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. We’re on our way.” 　　

　　The drive back to Sam was tense. Dean asked for his ring back, and Castiel only hesitated a second before handing it back. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry everything got screwed up. This was just supposed to be a good time... I just wanted you to have a little fun.” 　　

　　“I did enjoy myself Dean, spending time with you is always a “good time”. Thank you for bringing me, though I am in no hurry to consume so much alcohol any time soon.” 　　

　　Dean shook his head, only half listening. “I’m still not entirely sure how this happened, but as soon as we’re done with this shifter thing, we’ll come back and get it annulled or whatever, and hopefully Sam will be none the wiser.” 　　

　　Castiel stared out the window as the desert sped by. “If that is what you want.” 　　

　　Dean stole a sidelong glance at the angel in the passenger seat. “It-- it’s not what you want?” 　　

　　Castiel shrugged. “I’m not sure why an event neither of us can remember should hold so much significance, but if it bothers you, we can have it undone.” 　　

　　The photo set in his pocket seemed suddenly heavy, and the foggy memory of Cas’s hands on him on their way to their room rang in his head. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, maybe... No. 　　

　　“Yeah. It- It bothers me.” 　　 　　

* * *

　　Three months. It had been three months and at least 20 hunts since Dean and Cas’s adventure in Las Vegas. Dean told himself that the current hunt was more important. That they couldn’t get away from Sam without looking suspicious. That it was too far to get to today. That they’d get around to it eventually. 　　

　　Dean told himself lies. 　　

　　Cas hadn’t mentioned it, going about life with a business as usual attitude, and other than Sam jokingly asking “So, either of you end up married?” when they got back, and Dean flailing about internally for a few seconds before deflecting the question, it was almost as if the whole thing hadn’t happened. Almost. 　　

　　Maybe he spent quite a lot of time looking at those tiny pictures, then folding the card in half and sliding them carefully behind the faded photo of his mom in his wallet. Maybe he kinda wished he remembered more of that night, like how on earth he had gotten Cas, drunk or not, to agree to _marry_ him. Maybe, sometimes, he spun his ring on his finger, and remembered that Cas had worn it. Maybe, if he was totally honest with himself, he really like the idea of some paper out there claiming that Cas was officially _his_ , and vice versa. 　　

　　Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal to just have what happened in Vegas, stay in Vegas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was seriously supposed to be a oneshot. Now it will have 3 chapters. My bad. :p

Dean poured his coffee still somewhat groggy from sleep, and took a drink before opening the fridge and pulling out two leftover slices of pizza. He leaned against the counter and ate his breakfast on autopilot, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Sam came bouncing into the room, fresh from his morning run.

“Oh, good. You’re up. I found us a case.” He poured his own cup of coffee.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Dean groused.

Sam ignored him. “Only two victims, so far. Might be a ghost, or cursed object, I’m not entirely sure. All I know is both autopsies said that the victim’s lungs were filled with seawater.”

“So they drowned.” Dean deadpanned.

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, in the middle of Nevada.”

Dean stilled. “Where in Nevada?”

“Vegas.” Sam gave him a dirty look. “Now, don’t go getting any ideas. I need your full focus this time. I don’t need you running off and getting distracted.”

He tried to hide the growing disappointment he felt. “You don’t have to worry about that, I would honestly be okay if I never went back.”

Sam looked at him confused. “I thought you’d be chomping at the bit for this one. You said you guys had a good time. Did something happen?”

“No! I-- it’s not like I regret it or anything...” He paused. What was he saying? “It’s nothing, It was awesome. Just, maybe too awesome. I think I still have a residual hangover.”

“Well, I’m not exactly excited about the prospect... I mean, come on, you left with a hangover, but I left with _Becky_.” He shuddered. “Anyway, it’s definitely a job.”

Dean finished his pizza and excused himself. Sam watched him go. He wasn’t stupid. He knew full well that _something_ had happened on that trip; Dean had been too cagey whenever Sam mentioned it, and had failed to look Cas in the eye for almost a whole month. He just couldn’t quite figure out _what_ had happened, but he would. Oh yes, he would.

* * *

Dean found Castiel in the library, not that he had been looking for him. It was (mostly) on his way to his room, anyway. “Hey, Cas. You up for a trip?” 

Castiel glanced up from the book in his lap with a pleased look. “Of course. Where are we going?” 

“Oh. Um, Vegas.” 

Castiel looked away and nodded slowly. “To take care of the--” 

“No. We’ve got a case.” Dean fidgeted. “But, uh, well, if we can get away from Sam, we probably... We probably should.” 

“Yes. Of course.” 

“Okay, well. We’re heading out within the hour, so...” 

“I’ll be ready.” 

Hours later, Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel Sam had directed him to, realization hitting him about 30 seconds too late. This was the exact same motel he and Cas had, er, crashed in. “Whoa, wait. Here?”

Sam looked up at the building, and then at Dean, confused. “Yeah. This is it.” 

“Don’t you think we should find something... else?” 

“What? Why? It’s centrally located to the case, and it’s cheap. That’s everything we ever look for in a place to sleep, Dean.” 

“Nothing. Nevermind. It’s fine.” 

“Okay.” Sam gave him one more calculating look. “You want to check in?” 

The last thing wanted was to be recognized by the staff. “No. You go check in. I’ll... Grab the bags.” 

“I can help.” Cas piped up from the back seat. 

Sam flicked his gaze between his brother and the angel a few times before pushing his door open. “Okay, good. I’ll be right back.” 

Before long, Dean found himself following Sam into the lobby of the Greek Isles Hotel and Casino, suited up and undercover. They had sent Cas on ahead, to see if he could maybe sense any supernatural presence. Dean glanced over his shoulder, again, nervous that somebody-- anybody-- would recognize him. He knew it was unlikely, it had been a few months, after all, and this hadn’t even been the casino they had been at, but he couldn’t shake the idea. Sam couldn’t find out. Ever. The ribbing would be endless and torturous, made infinitely worse by the fact that _they were still friggin married_. Why the heck hadn’t he taken care of this before now? So what if he sorta maybe liked having a... a... _claim_. It wasn’t like he-- It was just-- 

Goddamn, he needed a drink. He beelined for the bar just off the hotel lobby, not even waiting for the bartender to turn around before placing his order. He knew Sam was going to pitch a fit, and even as the woman placed his drink on the polished wood, Sam was headed towards him, armed with his best bitchface. He turned back to the bartender, and shot her a quick, nervous smile before tipping the shot glass into his mouth. 

She let out a little gasp. “I don’t believe it!” Dean raised his eyebrows at her as Sam lumbered up behind him, huffing angrily. She smiled at him, and then turned back to Dean. “Oh, what am I thinking? You probably don’t even _remember_ me, but I never forget a pretty face, or a great tipper.” She winked at him. 

Dean stared uncomprehending for just a moment before his eyes lit on her name tag. “Cal-- Calypso.” He stuttered, trying and failing to sound pleasantly surprised. “Of course. It had to be. Obviously.” He silently cursed his luck while wishing for another drink and an escape. 

Sam looked suspiciously between the two of them, then noticed the empty shot glass on the counter. “Really, Dean? Can you at least _pretend_ to be a professional?” 

Dean opened his mouth to bite out a scathing reply, but the woman behind the bar spoke first, turning flirty eyes to Sam. “And who is this handsome man?” 

Dean had really been hoping to avoid introductions, but he rarely got what he wanted. “This is, uh, my partner, A--” 

“Your partner?” She all but demanded, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. “And what happened to your angel?” 

Sam snorted, and Dean floundered. “My- My ang-- No. Not-- we’re not “He gestured wildly between himself and Sam, “ _partners_. It’s-- He’s my partner, like, an agent thing.” He fumbled with the badge in his pocket and held it up before it slipped from his hands and he scrambled to catch it. He could literally feel his ears turning red. _What the fuck is_ wrong _with me?_

“Oh.” She said, as if relieved. 

_As if it were any of her damn business_. Dean thought bitterly. Though he gave her points for wanting to stick up for Cas. 

“Right.” Sam said, flashing his own badge. “Is there anything you can tell me about the two bodies that have been found this past week?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head. “Not really. I wasn’t here when they found the first guy, I was headed to my other job.” She winked at Dean, who really wanted to bury his face in his hands and also disappear. “I don’t know where exactly they found the second guy.”

Sam’s brown kitted together thoughtfully. “Okay. What about sea water? Any idea where that would have come from?” 

“Well, this is Vegas. You can’t go 20 yards without spotting a fish tank, most of them saltwater.” 

“Right. Well, thank you for your time, Calypso.” Dean barely managed a half-assed smile and nod before getting the fuck out of there. He could tell Sam was practically thrumming with poorly concealed amusement, and could only hope that-- 

“So, “your angel”, huh?”

“Shut it, Sam. Focus on the case.” 

“Oh, sure, right, yeah. The case. Why don’t you call _your angel_ on over here, and we can ask him if he’s found anything.” 

Dean sighed. “You're not going to leave that alone, are you?” 

Sam looked at his brother with a certified shit-eating grin. “Probably not.” 

 

* * *

Sam and Dean returned to the motel later, after interviewing a slew of people connected to the case, with little to show for it. Cas appeared some time later, assuring them that he hadn’t sensed any powerful supernatural presences. Though he did caution them that most such creatures could know how to cloak their power when not in use.

The next morning brought the announcement of another body, apparently drowned while in the driver’s seat of his car. Sam moved to rouse his brother, and kicked the foot of the motel bed Dean was currently sprawled across. Dean only grunted and fluffed his pillow.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean. I know you’re awake. We’ve got another vic.” 

Dean made an exasperated noise, but sat up and glanced around. “Where’s Cas?” 

“He said he was going to get coffee. Anyway, you need to get up and get dressed. You and Cas are going to go check out the crime scene and the morgue, I’m going to head back to the hotel, I have a few more of the staff I need to interview.” 

He made a face. “Why do you get the interviews and I get the morgue and Cas?” 

Sam smirked. “Because he’s yo--”

“Don’t even say it.” 

Later, Sam sat alone in the lobby of the hotel, facing a large bubbling fountain, pretending to read a newspaper. Okay, so maybe he’d lied a little about having more hotel staff to interview. There was only one person Sam was interested in talking to at the moment, and he wasn’t going to ask about the case. He hoped Calypso could shed a little more light on what had happened that night. On whatever it was that Dean was so intent on keeping from him, but so far, she hadn’t showed. Oh well, even if he didn’t get to talk to her, at least Dean and Cas would get some time together.

Sam often worried that _he_ was what stunted the growth of Dean and Cas’ relationship. Not, as an obstacle or naysayer, but in a third wheel sort of way. The three of them were just in close quarters too much of the time for Sam to not feel in the way sometimes. He liked to give them time on their own, hoping (mostly in vain) that it would help them figure out whatever it was they needed to figure out, so they could just _get on with it_. 

He sighed, and watched the fountain for a while. It was actually quite impressive, though it’s grandeur was lost among the rest of the Casino’s “go big or go home” attitude. It had two tiers, the top a twisting tower of polished rocks, water gurgling out of a spout at the summit to run randomly down the sides of the stones and into a shallow aquarium. Vibrant corals and plants were placed sparingly in the aquarium, putting the main focus on it’s inhabitants, the brightly colored crabs that scuttled around the bottom of the aquarium and a few of the bigger ones that dared the climb onto the rocks above. The lower tier had evenly spaced jets that sprayed almost high enough to touch the bottom of the aquarium, and small statuettes of spritely, buxom women frolicking in the water. The bottom of it was littered with coins. 

As Sam watched, an elderly gentleman approached the fountain with a small plastic bucket. He stood at the lip of the fountain as if debating with himself, and then shrugged before upending the bucket, sending a cascade of golden coins into the fountain. 

The man turned to walk away, and Sam stopped him. He pointed to the fountain. “Hey. Um, what’s with all the coins?”

The old man smiled. “Just came back to pay my dues. Tossed a nickel in yesterday, for a bit of luck. Swore I’d donate a portion of what I won. Hit the jackpot on a $1 slot not 30 minutes later. Got my photo taken and $10,000.” The man was beaming. “’Course, I figure I better make good on my end of the deal... Bad karma, you know.” 

“So you just tossed in a coin, and then hit the jackpot?” Sam was looking at the fountain with renewed interest. 

The man nodded vigorously.“’Course, it coulda been a coincidence... You should have seen the look on the bank teller’s face when I asked for 200 gold dollars! And when I told her they were going in the fountain! I know. I sound like a crazy person, but better safe than sorry, you know, and I _did_ promise.” 

Sam thanked the man for his time, and then pulled out his phone. It might have been a coincidence, but it was the closest thing to a lead they’d gotten all day. He called Dean and asked them to meet him there. They needed to find out more about this fountain. 

A little while later, he and Cas sat reviewing security footage, trying to see if any of the victims had visited the fountain. It was tedious work, but necessary. Dean had said he had something to take care of, that he would meet them both there in a couple hours, and whatever it was had Castiel even more sullen than usual. Sam wondered what his brother had done this time, and whether the two of them would ever get tired of all the pining and _do_ something about it. 

 

* * *

Dean walked into the club that he and Cas had visited before. It was nearly empty, not having opened it’s doors to the public yet for the day, but a flash of Dean’s badge got him in and a point towards a young girl taking inventory of the liquor behind the bar. He started with his “official” questions, about the bodies and the case, but she didn’t seem to know anything about them. Not that he’d really expected her to. 

She smiled prettily. “Well, if that’s all you need, I really need to get back to this.” She waved a clipboard at the bottles behind her. “We open our doors in just a couple hours.” 

He tried to drudge up some courage to ask about what he really came here to find out. “No. Yeah. Of course. That’s-- That’s all I needed. Thanks.”

“No problem.” 

Dean smiled, but didn’t move away from the counter. He clenched his jaw and silently berated himself for being a coward. “Uh, actually, I did have a couple questions... Not really about the case--” 

Her smile slipped a fraction before she forced it back into place. “Oh, I’m really flattered, but I’m seeing someone.” 

It took a fraction of a moment longer than it should have for Dean to process her response. “No. I mean, good for you, but I wasn’t-- Not those kinds of questions.” 

“Oh good!” She said, clearly relieved. “I mean, I expect it, from the clientele, but not from...” She waved her hand at him.

“No, see, a buddy of mine and I were in here a few months ago, and neither of us really remember what... happened. There’s not any way that--” 

“Oh my gosh!” She hugged her clipboard to her chest in excitement. “I _thought_ you looked familiar!” 

“You remember me?” He asked, not sure whether the thought made him feel relieved or sick. 

“Not from that night, I don’t think I worked that night, but you’re in the book!” She rushed to the other end of the bar and dug around behind it. 

“Book? What book?” 

She pulled out a thick black binder and placed it in front of him. “The book.” Some one had doodled the words “Happy Couples” on a paper and cut around the words before sealing them to the front of the binder with clear packing tape. Dean swallowed, not sure what he was hoping he would or wouldn’t find. 

When he didn’t open it right away, she took it from him and flipped through it quickly before laying it open in front of him. “It’s one of my favorites.” She sighed. “We don’t get to do many same sex couples.” 

Dean wasn’t listening. He was staring at a ridiculous photo of him and Cas. They were both clearly drunk, their faces were red with it. Cas had an obviously fake rose pinned to the lapel of his coat and a white gauzy veil sat askew on his head. Dean had a black bow tie around his throat and held a bouquet of also very fake red roses in one hand, and Cas’ waist in the other. Cas was wearing Dean’s ring, looking at it on his hand like it was another world wonder, and Dean was looking at Cas. Looking at him like he... 

He cleared his throat. “So we, uh, didn’t _really_ get married.” 

“Legally? No.” She laughed. “You really can’t remember, huh?” 

He laughed. “Not much.” 

“Lemme guess. Nymph’s Delight?” He looked at her confused. “Your drinks? Bright green, shot glass, kinda salty, kinda sweet?” He nodded. “Thought so. I don’t even know what’s in it, but it will mess you up.” 

“You’re telling me.” He looked back at the picture, unable to keep the blush from tinging his ears. “Hey, uh, can I have this?” 

She bit her lip. “We’re not supposed to... But if you gimme your email, I’ll send you a copy.” 

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”


	3. Chapter 3

After taking some time to collect himself and put his personal crisis on the back burner, Dean met Sam and Cas in the security room of the hotel where they were still pouring over tapes.

“Okay, so what’s up with this fountain? You guys find anything useful?”

Cas didn’t even look at him, and the look Sam threw him was a dirty one. “Yeah, we did. Thanks for all the help.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “How many of us does it take to stare at a screen? Jesus. Your bitch levels are dangerously high today. I had something I had to do.”

Cas leveled him with a stare. “So the thing you wanted to do, it’s done?”

Dean crossed his arms defensively, why was Cas being a bitch now? “Yes. Christ. I promise never to leave you two all by your lonesome anymore. Can we freaking focus on the case now?” Cas looked down at his hands, and it reminded Dean of the photo in the book, except his expression was all wrong. Sam huffed and turned back to the monitor.

“Okay, so, not every person that tosses in a coin hits the jackpot, and not every person that wins a jackpot tosses in a coin--”

“So... This was all a waste of time? So sorry I didn’t make it.”

“BUT,” Sam raised his voice to shut his brother up. “The people that _do_ throw coins and then win the jackpot come back and give a portion of what they won to the fountain. The only three that didn’t come back...”

“Mysteriously drowned.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what? Death by magic fountain? The whole thing is a cursed object? What?”

Sam deflated a little. “That’s the part we don’t know yet. I mean, we can do a purification spell, to be safe, but we’re not exactly sure it’s cursed.”

Dean sucked in a breath and nodded to himself. “Alright. Let’s go check out this fountain.”

The three of them stood in the lobby of the hotel, which was becoming more and more populated, the later it got. People on their way to dinner or the slots, checking in and checking out, but no one seemed to pay them any mind as they regarded the gurgling fountain.

Dean pointed to the writing along the edge of the fountain, it looked to be in Greek. “What’s that say?”

Sam scoffed. “Nothing. I tried to look it up earlier, it’s just jibberish. It’s completely ornamental. You’d have thought they could have put a little effort into it.”

“Alright, well, what’s with the naked chicks?”

“They’re nymphs.” Castiel said, as if that would answer all of Dean’s questions.

Dean turned to the angel after only a few seconds. “Well? You getting any bad juju vibes here, or what?”

“No.” He answered, but he said it slowly, uncertainty leaking through his voice as he regarded the fountain like a puzzle. Dean and Sam shared a look, and Sam shrugged.

“No?” Dean prodded.

“It’s more like...” he paused and began to walk around the marble pool, “like a blessing.”

The brothers followed him intently, and Sam chuckled. “Uh, no offense, Cas, but last time I checked, blessings didn’t kill people.”

“I know.” The angel replied, still walking slowly around the fountain, trying to see it from all angles.

Dean rolled his eyes, frustrated. “Okay, so, a blessing from like, a priest?”

“No.”

“Well who else could and would bless a fountain?” Sam asked.

“Not the fountain,” Cas said, as if they were stupid for not seeing it themselves, “the crabs.” He stepped onto the marble edge of the fountain, and made to reach into the aquarium. Both Sam and Dean moved to stop him before anyone noticed the strange FBI agent making off with their holy crustaceans. Still, he scooped one off the rocks before they could haul him down.

“Don’t!” Said a voice from behind them, and they turned to see Calypso staring at them with a horrified expression. “Put her back!”

Castiel looked down at the little blue crab in his hands. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Calypso stomped her foot. “Put her back! She’s afraid. Please.”

Both Sam and Dean watched the exchange, thoroughly confused. When the realization hit Dean, he threw both hands up in an “aha!” movement. “Nymph’s Delight!” Sam was looking at him like he had boarded the crazy train with the others. “Nymphs!” He flailed back at the fountain.“The Odyssey!” He watched as Sam had his own “aha!” moment.

At the mention of the famous story, Calypso finally turned her attention from the creature in Cas’ hands to hiss at Dean. Dean, finally understanding what was going on, settled into a cocky attitude. “What’s the matter? ‘S that a bit of a sore point?”

Sam stepped forward. “So, what? People don’t make an offering, they get the axe?”

“They ask for my blessing, and they make an oath! I am _tired_ of broken promises!”

Dean made an exasperated face. “ _Please_ tell me this is not all over some guy. Who, if I remember correctly, didn’t even want to be with you in the first place.”

“No! I didn’t seduce Odysseus, or imprison him, Homer was an ass! I _healed_ him, and when he was well, I tried to send him on, but he refused! He loved me, he said, and wanted to be with me forever. Seven years we were happy, until _Athena_ went and whined to Zeus, and _made_ him leave. There was nothing I could _do_. Drown a man for being an oathbreaker? Easy peasy. Stand up to the God of Gods? Not so much. But he swore! Swore he’d keep me in his heart of hearts! Swore he’d never even look upon his wife’s face again, but as soon as he’s back, what does he do? He tells everyone I _enchanted_ him. A nymph can seduce, can embolden and emphasize desire, but we cannot change what is in a man’s true heart. We cannot!” She crumpled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Sorry, sister, that ship sailed when you started dropping bodies.” Dean took a step towards her, but Cas stopped him.

The angel walked towards her, and held out the tiny crab that was currently pinching at his thumb. She scooped it out of his hands and cradled it gently to her face, shushing and murmuring to it softly.

“You can’t stay.” Cas said sternly.

“But I like it here.” She said petulantly.

“Go back to your home.” He insisted.

She looked at him sadly. “It isn’t my island anymore. What the Gods didn’t take from me, humans did.”

Cas turned to look at Sam and Dean for help, his eyes silently asking for a pardon.

Dean looked away. “Aw, jeez Cas. Come on.” He turned to Sam for back up, but Sam only shrugged, fighting a grin.

Calypso watched the three of them, carefully. “I won’t kill anybody anymore.” She offered.

Sam groaned. “You’re not helping your case, really.”

“No, I mean it. I’ll take an Oath. Never again.” She looked at Dean with pleading eyes.

Dean felt an incredible urge to give in. “Hey, hey! Knock it off! Keep your Nymphness to yourself.” She looked down guiltily, but Dean remembered whet she’d said about not being able to change how he really felt, and wondered if she’d had anything to do with him and Cas being so... together that night. His eyes flicked to Cas, who was still giving him that hopeful puppy face. “Fine.” He grumbled.

“We can stay?” She asked carefully, stroking the little crab's shell soothingly.

“No more bodies.”

She nodded quickly. “I still reserve the right to punish Oath breakers.”

“ _No one_ gets hurt.” Dean amended.

She nodded again. “I swear it.”

Sam piped up before she decided to disappear or something, “So, before, when you _weren’t_ killing... What did you do to punish them?”

“Usually a couple hundred gallons of seawater in their hotel room.” She smirked. “Water damage is a very serious and expensive problem.”

* * *

Later, on the ride home, Sam was rehashing what he knew of nymphs with Cas, to see how much of what he knew coincided with Castiel’s knowledge. “What I don’t get, though, is why didn’t she put up more of a fight?” Sam asked. “I mean, she could flood rooms and drown grown men, we threatened her home, usually monsters come at us full throttle, you know?”

Cas shrugged. “She knew what we were, by then, and how dangerous we could be. Nymphs are powerful, yes, and do not die of old age, but they are not immortal. On our own, she might have fought, but the three of us together? Even with her ability to change form, she could not have hoped to best all three of us. And she feared for Tikken.”

“Tikken?”

“The crab. That was her name. She didn’t like me much, but I think Calypso has her spoiled.” He said the last part begrudgingly, as if he did not want to believe any creature could not like him.

Dean laughed, and Sam joined him. Neither of them could help it. Sobering, Dean looked at Cas in the rearview. “Alright, but how come _you_ didn’t put up any fight? She just gave you the sad face, and you _caved_ man.”

Castiel looked out the window, thinking. “She had lost everything. Her home, her family-- they had children, you know-- even Her Gods... Everything that she was, lost over time. I know very much how that feels.”

Both Sam and Dean became very quiet at that, suffocating in the melancholy air that suddenly filled the impala. Sam cleared his throat. “But you have us, Cas, and the bunker.”

Castiel nodded. “That is the point Sam. It is the same. I have made a new home, here, with you, and I have found a measure of happiness. But I too have spilled the blood of humans. Imagine that strangers that we had no hope of overpowering came and demanded I go back to Heaven.”

The muscle on Dean’s jaw ticked away at the very thought that anyone would _dare_. “No.”

“That is why. It is the same.”

* * *

They made it back to the bunker, without incident, all three of them thinking over the last few days. Sam reflected on how it seemed the area between right and wrong, good and evil, constantly seemed to grow wider. How with each new hunt, it got harder and harder to swing his blade and feel okay afterwards.

Cas thought about how it was different, his situation and Calypso’s; how, even though his home was changed, he still _had_ a home to go back to, should he wish. He thought about the things he had that Calypso didn’t, friends that he knew would fight beside him savagely; Calypso didn’t have a Sam or a- a Dean.

He watched the fraction of Dean’s face he could see in the rearview. He had been so angry, when he knew Dean had unmarried them. It was an unjust anger, he had no right to lay a claim on Dean, especially if he didn’t want it, but he’d felt it anyway. Now, he just kind of felt empty. That part of him that held a tiny hope that Dean had been purposely putting off the annulment (regardless of how often he reminded himself not to be foolish) had been effectively negated, and he felt like he was somehow less than he had been before.

Dean didn’t think about anything. He very stubbornly thought about nothing. At all. He didn’t think about being married to Cas, and he definitely didn’t think about not being married to Cas. He didn’t wonder just how much Nymph powers Calypso had had to use on him that night, and he absolutely didn’t think about how much she would have had to use on Cas. Probably a lot, what with Cas being an angel, and there being no way he could ever... Anyway, he didn’t think about it.

He didn’t grit his teeth every time his ring caught on the steering wheel. He didn’t try to steal glances at Cas through the rearview. He didn’t wonder what Sam would say, _really_ say if he asked Cas... What? On a date? Right. He didn’t want-- _really badly_ \-- to pull the pictures of him and Cas out of his wallet and look at them. He most certainly didn’t lose 50 miles of the trip to a daydream about white picket married life in the bunker, with a second pillow on his bed and late movie nights on the couch with homemade popcorn and breakfast in bed after a night in bed and teaching their son to change the oil-- _What the fuck, how are we in Colorado already?!_

Whatever. He didn’t.

* * *

Enough was enough, and Sam had had more than enough. They had been back in the bunker three days, and Sam was officially, 5000% done with what the fuck ever this was. Cas had been in a perpetual state of mope, the entire time, moving from room to room with all the enthusiasm of Eeyore looking for his Goddamn tail.

And Dean. Dean was like a fucking roulette wheel of negativity, didn’t matter what number came up, the only two colors were rage and angst. The bunker felt like it was littered with land mines, and Sam ended up stepping on every fucking one. Like just now, for instance, Sam had asked Dean if he had seen the throw pillows that normally go on the loveseat in the library, and Dean had freaking _exploded_. “Do I look like someone that needs extra pillows, Sam? No! One fucking pillow guy. That’s me!”

No more. Nope. Not today. Done.

Sam took a deep breath, walked into Dean’s room, and closed the door behind him. He took another deep breath, and prayed for the strength not to kill his only.. Well, his only _living_ brother. They really needed to address the whole Adam in the cage thing... But not today. “Dean. I need you to tell me what is going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” He bit out.

“No. You’re not playing the avoidance game. Absolutely not. This bunker is a fucking war zone, and I keep getting caught in the crossfire. What. Is. Wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “I’m not. I swear to God, we can turn this into a knock down, drag out fight if you want, but you’re going to tell me where all of this emo is coming from.”

“I don’t have any emo.” Dean sat heavily on his bed, a sign of forfeit, and Sam was surprised that he was giving in so quickly. He stood tense, not fully trusting that it wasn’t a rouse. Dean didn’t say anything else, just sat on his bed and stared at the wall.

“Look, Dean--”

“You can’t laugh.” He glared at Sam. “I swear to God, Sammy.”

Sam held his hands up. “I won’t laugh. I just want to help.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “You’re going to laugh.” He breathed, but went on anyway. “So, Cas and I went to Vegas.” He paused, and Sam motioned for him to continue. “Well, we got freaking wasted, like _so_ wasted, you don’t even know... I think Calypso drugged us with nympho juice or something.” Sam snorted involuntarily at the slip and Dean glared. “I mean it Sam.”

Sam schooled his face, and then nodded. “So, nymph magic.”

“Yeah. Anyway, when we woke up, we couldn’t remember, like, anything, but there were... uh... signs that... I mean, I thought maybe we had...”

Sam was holding his breath, but he couldn’t stop the words as they poured out of him. “Did you have sex with Cas?”

“What? No!” Dean sounded indignant, but Sam was downright disappointed. Dean put his face in his hands. “God, this is humiliating, can’t we do this later?”

“Oh, no.” Sam knew if Dean stopped talking now, he’d never start again. “You were saying?”

“Okay, so, the evidence suggested that Cas and I had...” He huffed, and said in a rush, “Hewaswearingmyring.”

“You _married_ Cas?” God help him, a laugh bubbled out of him as he said it.

Dean held up a finger in warning. “Dammit Sam, I mean it.”

“No. I’m not laughing at you... I’m just so happy for you. Congrats, man. I didn’t even get you a card or anything.” Dean glowered and stood up, moving to push past him and out the door. “No. Look, I’m sorry. Little brother knee-jerk reflex. It won’t happen again, I swear.” But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching upwards. “Come on, I’ll be good. I know the worst of it now anyhow, right?”

Dean looked like he would very much like to punch his brother in the face. “Well, anyway. When I figured it out I--”

“Panicked?”

“Would you just shut up and listen? Jesus. This is why I never want to talk about stuff. “ He started pacing. “As I was saying, you called us back before we had time to go get it undone, or whatever, so I asked Cas for my ring back, and we came back.”

Sam groaned.

“Goddamn Sam, shut up and let me fucking talk. So I went around thinking me and Cas were married for a while. And a lot of the time, it bothered me, but sometimes it didn’t, I guess.”

Sam nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Right. But then, then we had to go back, and I _had_ to go get it undone.”

“That’s where you went while me and Cas watched the tapes?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“That explains why Cas was so cranky.”

“What does?”

“No, no. You talk, I listen, then I’ll tell you what I think.”

“Yeah, okay. So I go to figure out how to reverse it or whatever, and I find out that we weren’t really married, it was just like, a mock thing the club does sometimes.” He said the last bit as if that is where the story finished.

“Okay, good. Problem, solution.” Sam said as if that was the end of it, knowing full well it wasn’t. “Except... That doesn’t explain why you’ve been so volatile since we got back.”

“I don’t know, man.” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I guess I, sort of, got used to it, and now I’m-- I feel like--”

“Like you kinda miss it?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“It’s not like I can stop you.”

“Why did it bother you so much? In the beginning?”

“A bunch of reasons. I mean, Cas is my best friend, and I took him out to have a good time, not to tie him down. And he’s a freaking _angel_ Sam, and he was drunk, we both were, and he probably doesn’t even understand, he said it didn’t really matter, if we couldn’t remember it, but it was still a pretty big deal to me. And let’s face it, I’m not really “husband material”, and--”

“And because he’s a guy?” Dean was facing away from him, but Sam could see his shoulders tense.

“Well, yeah.” He admitted. “But, I mean, Cas, the real Cas, he doesn’t even have a gender, so it’s not like--”

Sam tried really hard not to look at his brother in pity. “You know none of that matters, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He said dejectedly, and Sam felt the need to clarify.

“I mean, Cas could possess the toaster and he’d still be yours.” Dean looked up at him as if he’d misheard him. “It would make the uh, physical aspect of your relationship a tad dangerous, and for real I don’t want to know the logistics--”

“Sam, stop.” Dean shook his head to clear it of that image.

“Just, look at it this way; I’m fairly certain that Cas would do just about anything for you-- he is so over the fucking moon for you, and you can’t even see it-- he would change vessels for you.”

Dean looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What?! Cas likes his vessel.”

“I know he does, but if him being a guy really bothers you, he would do it. Just, try to think about it for a minute. Is that something you would want?”

Dean thought about it. Even if Cas agreed to it, which was stupid, and hey, maybe he could commandeer some smokin’ hot librarian or something. He tried to picture everything that was Cas in a petite, curvy body. It should feel like the answer to everything, right? It didn’t, and Dean frowned. It would still be Cas, that was the point, but it wouldn’t be... It wouldn’t be “gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition,” Cas. It wouldn’t be “Hello, Dean” Cas. It wouldn’t be scruffy-and-covered-in-gore-purgatory Cas. It wouldn’t be holy-shit-those-are-really-blue-eyes Cas. It wouldn’t be... Wouldn’t be _his_ Cas.

He _could_ have girl Cas, but he didn’t _want_ girl Cas.

Sam laughed at the pained look on his face. “Dean. Stop trying so hard to put a label on it. What do you want?”

“I want... Cas. As he is.” He looked at Sam who spread his hands in a “what’s stopping you?” motion. “I want Cas.” He said it again, as if trying on the notion for the first time. He said it a third time. “I want Cas. That’s weird right? Feels weird.”

“Admitting what you want? Or talking about your feelings? ‘Cause for you...”

“Shut up. Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam watched his brother expectantly, and then laughed. “Why are you still here? Go.”

Dean went.

* * *

Dean walked halfway to the library, where he was sure he would find Castiel, before turning around and walking back to his room, where Sam stood, blocking the door with his arms crossed. So Dean rolled his eyes, turned around without a word, and tried again. This time actually making it into the library, where Cas stood, reading the spines. Dean swallowed, wishing for a shot of nymph induced courage, and then berating himself. This was _Cas_. Who he’d been not actually married to already. This was no big deal, compared to that... Right?

But what was he supposed to _say_?

The angel turned to him, not quite making eye contact, which Dean thought was odd. Usually, eye contact was their thing. “Uh, hey. Cas.” That was good. Neutral.

“Hello Dean.” He still refused to make eye contact.

Dean took am awkward step towards him, not sure enough of the next few moments to be sure of himself. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Dean nodded. “That’s... good.” _Well, this conversation is going absolutely nowhere. Come on, Winchester, get your freaking head in the game._ “Cas, can I, uh, talk to you?”

“We are talking, Dean.”

“I know. I mean about important-- Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes flashed to Dean’s for a moment before sliding away.

Dean clenched his jaw in frustration, but let it go, for now. “Look, I’m not really that good at--” He huffed and the started again. “So, you remember when we went to Vegas? Like, the first time?”

“Vaguely.” Cas said dryly.

“Yeah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “You remember that, uh, thing I got upset about? The me and you thing?”

Castiel turned away. “I thought you took care of the thing.”

“I did, well, kind of.” He moved so he was in front of Cas again. “Well, here’s the thing, about the, uh, thing. At first, I didn’t like the thing. Like, at all. It was...” He trailed off. “Yeah, Okay. Um, anyway. This last time we were there, I found out that the thing was never _really_ a thing. It was just a fake... thing.”

Castiel couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so he let Dean ramble, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been _more_ bothered by the fact that there was no thing, than I was when I thought there _was_ a thing.” He paused, waiting for some kind of reaction. Castiel only stared at him. At least he was staring _at_ him, Dean supposed. “Do you get what I’m saying?” _Probably not, I’m pretty sure that just sounded like a whole lot of scrambled crazy._

“You... want... a thing.” Cas said it slowly, and carefully, not daring to hope that Dean was saying what it sounded like he was saying.

“Oh, Hell. Here, just-- put this on!” He held out his ring and didn’t dare look, his face already felt like it was on fire.

Castiel took the ring from him, but didn’t put it on. He stared at it, then at Dean, and then at the ring some more. “You want me to... wear this?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t _have_ to.” He said, trying not to sound disappointed and reaching for the ring.

Castiel closed his fist around it. “And it means we have a thing? Like before?”

“Maybe not the same thing. A different thing. A, uh, smaller thing.”

The angel opened his fist and looked at the ring again, frowning. “I do not have one for you.”

Dean’s breath caught, and his chest was doing this stupid filling up with too much thing. “That’s okay. Maybe one day, if we want the bigger thing.”

“Alright.” He slipped Dean’s ring on his finger and looked at Dean. “Now we have a thing?”

“Yeah, Cas.” He said with a laugh. “As long as you wear that, we have a thing.”

Castiel closed his fist again and pulled it away, as if Dean might try to pry it off his finger. “I like having a thing.” He paused and cocked his head. “What kind of thing is it?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know man. Just.. You and me. We’re the thing.”

“Does the thing--” He stopped, not wanting to push his luck.

“What, Cas?”

“Does the thing include kissing? The other thing had kissing.”

“Uh...”

At his hesitance, Castiel backpedaled. “That’s okay, Dean. I can wait for the--” The last of his words were muffled against Dean’s lips, pressed softly to his mouth.

Dean pulled back and waited for the revulsion he was half expecting to hit him. But it didn’t. It seemed the same, only newer. Cas’ lips were dry, but soft, and it was kinda nice not having to wipe cheap lipstick off his mouth. Cas was watching him like he might bolt at any second, so he leaned in again for another press of lips. He didn’t pull quite so far away this time, and Cas left a kiss on the corner of his mouth in return, making it pull upwards.

The fact that he was still standing there must have given Cas some courage, because when he leaned in again, his tongue swept across Dean’s bottom lip just before their lips came together. It made Dean suck in a sharp breath, and when Cas pulled away, Dean’s tongue darted out of it’s own accord to taste where Cas’ had been.

Fuck it.

He grabbed Cas’ coat and jerked him closer for a kiss, a real kiss. A kiss with nipping teeth and sliding tongues and hands fisted in hair. A kiss that started with a gasp and ended with a sigh. A kiss that tasted like good news.

“So kisses are part of the thing?” Castiel asked, and Dean gave half a nod. Cas didn’t give him an opportunity to change his mind, he peppered him with kisses along his jaw, and then pulled off Dean’s shirt, moving his mouth to skin as soon as the material was out of the way.

Dean cleared his throat. “This can definitely be part of the thing, too. And-- _ah!_ And that. O-Okay. _Ssst_. Yeah. Lots of stuff in the thing, Cas.” He grabbed Cas’ hand, and tugged to get his attention. “Come on.”

Cas pouted, and then tilted his head. “Where?”

“To figure out all the parts of the thing.”

* * *

Sam stood in the kitchen, holding a beer but not really drinking it. He hoped to God everything was going well for Dean and Cas. He couldn’t think of any reason why it shouldn’t go well, but they were both so freaking oblivious, and neither of them boasted great communication skills, so Sam worried. He made himself take a drink and looked at the clock again. How long should he consider himself on standby for angst?

Not very long, as it turns out.

He looked up just in time to see his brother walk past the door, shirtless, pulling Cas along by the hand. When Cas saw Sam, he stopped, which meant Dean stopped too, just out of view.

“Can we tell Sam about the thing?”

Dean made an exasperated noise, but said, “Yeah, of course.” He poked his head into the doorway. “Hey, Sam, me and Cas are a thing.”

“It has lots of parts.” Cas added quickly, holding up his left hand to show him the ring.

Sam chuckled. “Hey, as long as you keep all your things and parts out of the view of the public eye... Congrats.”

Sam held up his bottle, as if toasting their happiness, but Dean was already pulling Castiel away. He heard Cas from the hall, “Dean what are you--” Sam shook his head and laughed to himself when it was followed by, “This is entirely unnecessary.”

Walking to the door, Sam peeked his head into the hallway just in time to see Dean carrying Cas, bridal style, the last bit of the way.

“Deal with it, Cas.” He said. “It’s part of the thing,” He kicked the door shut behind them.


End file.
